


The Shape of Dead Things

by not_whelmed_yet



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Chirolinguistics, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-War, The Shape of Water AU, Torture, the ark returned, the dead universe is different
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-08 19:25:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13464933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_whelmed_yet/pseuds/not_whelmed_yet
Summary: I watched the trailer for The Shape of Water and said "That. That but with Cygate."Many years after the ill-fated return of the Ark 1, Tailgate is still working as a janitor in the secret lab complex under the Primal Basilica. But Jhiaxus has captured a creature from another dimension...and assigned Tailgate to clean the lab in which it's kept, setting them on a collision course towards love and misadventure.





	The Shape of Dead Things

**Author's Note:**

> Please note this is a AU based loosely upon the _trailer/premise_ of The Shape of Water and contains no spoilers for the film itself as I have not seen the film itself. Important warnings re: expectations you might have based on that au - Cy isn't a fishman and there is no sex/sexual content in this story. 
> 
> Noteworthy points of divergence between this timeline and the canon timeline are in the endnotes so as to avoid spoilers.

Work was, as always, an unholy mixture of anxiety and tedious, endless boredom. He rolled out of his berth when the buzzer started going off. He walked in to work—money wasn't stretching far enough to pay fare on the railcar. It was about an hour's walk to the Primal Basilica, and then another twenty minutes to get through the line to the security screening. He took the elevator down, and down, and down to the bottom floor of the sub-basement and collected his gear. Then it was just the long, endless drudgery of removing trash a cartload at a time to the waste-sorting room and sorting it into the appropriate skips. He punctuated this work with occasional breaks to work on cleaning and polishing the floors in the hallways of the various basement levels.

He wasn't actually sure which job, of the two, he disliked more. The waste-disposal room was dark and foul-smelling and the work was a delightful mixture of gross and mind-numbing. But sometimes in the process of sorting out the trash he'd find little treasures to bring home. And he was left alone there. The hallways in the floors above, you always risked running into someone who thought kicking around janitorial-class minibots was a fun game.

When he'd first been assigned to the Primal Basilica, he'd been delighted. Being told that his lot in life was janitorial work had obviously been a letdown. His alt mode was a car! A little car, but nonetheless. There were other bots who turned into cars who got to work as soldiers or security guards or secretaries or any number of jobs that didn't involve sluicing old partially-processed fuel into the industrial fuel recycler in the basement. But that was what the Grand Cybertronian Taxonomy determined class 162 bots were supposed to do, so that was his job. Considering all that, being assigned to the Primal Basilica had seemed terribly exciting.

And maybe it was, upstairs. But the basement levels where Tailgate was assigned were the domain of the Prime's chief theoretician and scientist, Jhiaxus. In the years Tailgate had been working there—the years since the return of the Ark—Jhiaxus had never spoken to him. He kept to his labs when he wasn't storming about, he spoke over the intercoms to inform employees when the Prime was scheduled to visit his experiment stations so they could make themselves scarce. Which was just as well, in Tailgate's opinion, because the both of them terrified him.

Things had gotten stranger in the last few weeks. The entire north wing, where Jhiaxus had sequestered himself in his lab, had been barricaded off. Trash pickup had been left in piles just beyond the blocked-off hallways. And there'd been soldiers down there a few days now, wandering about in the labyrinth under the basilica, trying to ask Tailgate how to get to the blockaded section. Invariably Tailgate ended up having to lead them there, since he couldn't give directions. The soldier who'd interrupted him that day gave him a jaunty wave as he hopped over the barricade and headed to the lab. Tailgate never saw him leave. Though he was in the sub-basement doing sorting most of the day—he probably missed him.

The walk home was drizzly and cold and Tailgate's feet ached. But there was nothing for it, so he kept walking. He stopped at the corner dispensary and turned in his day's salary for a cube and a half of fuel and keyed himself into his building. Their apartment was up the stairs in the back. He was just resigning himself to putting down their cubes in order to fish his key out of his hip compartment when Whirl threw the door open with a cheery, "Hey there, Legs!"

Whirl was his roommate. They'd been roommates ever since Tailgate started out at the Basilica. He'd wandered out of his first shift with his currency card clenched in his fist and absolute terror on his face, trying to figure out where he could rent a room. Whirl had the shop, back then, and he'd seen Tailgate and swooped in to the rescue. _"Took pity on you because you looked so little and pathetic,"_ Whirl would say. Tailgate figured he had actually been looking for someone to talk to—Whirl had always been a big talker.

Of course, a lot had changed since then.

Whirl scooped the fuel cubes out of Tailgate's hands with his claws and set them aside, then hoisted Tailgate up in his arms and carried him over to the windowseat near Whirl's art setup. "How was work?" Whirl asked, fiddling with one of the mobiles overhead. After the surgery, he didn't have the finesse to do fine parts repairs, but he hadn't lost his eye for aesthetics. He made little trinkets out of the trash Tailgate brought home in the long hours of Tailgate's shifts. They'd go down and sell them at the Shifting Market on Tailgate's next day off—it was just too dangerous for Whirl to wander the streets alone nowadays.

Tailgate wiggled his fingers. _Long._ He picked up the little assistive speech keyboard Whirl had kludged together for him and tapped away at the keyboard. The mechanical voice lagged behind him a few seconds, "They've still got the North wing closed. Kept having to go around and that detour takes forever. My feet hurt."

Whirl nodded. "But you're all in one piece, right Legs? Nobody giving you slag at work?"

"I can look after myself." _And you can't follow me there._ Whirl had always struggled with impulse control—he'd think of some grand idea and then _have_ to follow through like a bot possessed. And he'd always been protective of Tailgate, barely restraining himself from stomping on down to the Primal Basilica and challenging Tailgate's bullies to a fight. It had only gotten worse since his empurata and being trapped in their apartment.

"I know," Whirl said, aimlessly tapping his claw against the window in a _pitter-patter_ of pent-up energy. "Did you find anything good today?" He asked, lone optic jumping between Tailgate and his junkpile of to-be craft supplies. "I've been thinking, maybe those old glass cylinders could work for some sort of musical chime, I just need to figure out how to punch holes in them without shattering them. Not a biggie, I mean, if I shatter them then I'll just have to figure out what to do with the pieces. Something'll work."

Tailgate held up his hand— _wait_. He and Whirl had spent a lot of time practicing chiro figures so Whirl could read them at a distance. Tailgate missed being able to speak with Whirl hand-to-hand, but at least they weren't stuck with the awkward, monotone speech synthesizer all the time. The synthesizer was faster, but he just hated it. Tailgate popped open his hip compartment and held up his prizes for the day—a collection of perfect spherical ball-bearings someone had thrown away. Whirl hmm'ed with appreciation.

"Oh yes, if you just got them painted up nice, these could be really pretty. Thanks, Tailgate. I'll grab something to put them in."

They chatted a bit longer, Whirl showing off his progress for the day and aimlessly gossiping about whatever mad science had to be going on in the North wing. They refueled a little bit, then put the remaining cube aside to save for the next day. They played their perennial game about who needed the fuel more—Tailgate because he worked all day or Whirl because he was four times Tailgate's size? "Naw, I'm in power-down mode most of the day, you can have it," Whirl said blithely. They'd had to cut...well, everything, when Whirl lost the shop and they lost that second set of income. Fuel was tightened down about as far as it could go; if the landlord boosted their rental fees higher Tailgate didn't know what they were going to do.

Eventually, Tailgate forced himself to head over to the berth to bunk down. Whirl dimmed the lights and sequestered himself back in his corner, working quietly by the glow of the streetlamps through the window. He was still working when Tailgate finally slipped into an unrefreshing recharge.

He rolled out of his berth when the buzzer started going off, the sky still dark outside and Whirl slumped at his desk, antennae wiggling in his sleep. And then it all started over again.

 

* * *

 

Tailgate froze, staring at the thing in his hands, transfixed. It looked...it looked like someone's fuel pump. Just lying in a pile of miscellaneous slag metal. There was no reason why there should be body parts in Tailgate's waste collection—this was a scientific facility, not a medical facility.

On some inexplicable instinct, he buried the thing in the pile of outgoing slag metal.

 

* * *

 

The North wing was open again, the blockade gone like it had never been there. Tailgate stared down the empty hallway, which was now weeks behind on polishing. It was going to take half the day to get this presentable again, and then when was he supposed to do his collection work?

He didn't see anyone that day, though he could have sworn he felt someone watching him. The thought sent a frisson of fear up his spinal strut.

 

* * *

 

"You there! Waste disposal!" Tailgate jumped, then jolted to attention. Jhiaxus stomped down the hall to tower over Tailgate. It wasn't that Jhiaxus was especially tall - he wasn't. But when you were a minibot you got used to everyone towering over you.

Jhiaxus looked down on him, frowning, then said, "Follow me." He led Tailgate to a pair of double doors that led into a huge darkened laboratory. There was a huge glass tube in the back of the lab full of some bubbling purple fluid and a raised dais in the center of the room with huge metal loops sticking out of the floor. Jhiaxus looked around the space, and waved some of the lights on.

"I'm trying a new approach with this project," Jhiaxus said, "My laboratory assistants were too paranoid to follow me, but that's alright. They were useless anyway, the lot of them. You'll be adding this lab to your cleaning detail. I want it clean as a newframe any time the Prime comes by to visit. Understood?"

Tailgate nodded. He hadn't realized Jhiaxus _had_ assistants, but he supposed someone must have been cleaning all those labs he was forbidden from entering.

"You are not to speak of this to anyone. Whatever you see in this laboratory is top secret, on the order of the Prime himself. Do you understand?"

Tailgate nodded.

"Say it," Jhiaxus said, glancing over at Tailgate.

Tailgate shrank away from him. He knew, right? Everybody knew. With trembling fingers, he reached into his hip compartment and drew out his personnel card and offered it to Jhiaxus.

Jhiaxus plucked it from his hands and looked at it, clearly baffled by Tailgate's response. "Oh," he said after a moment. "And you never had your vocal synthesizer replaced afterwards?"

Tailgate shook his head. They didn't have the shanix for it. Whirl swore up and down that he could have done the surgery himself, if not for the damned claws. Till now, the fact that he'd been rendered mute had been a moot point at work. Nobody wanted him to talk anyway.

"Well, that's very convenient," Jhiaxus said, passing Tailgate's card back to him, complete with the attached medic's notes. "Well, regardless, no one is to know about this. I'm trusting you to ensure that happens. Don't let me down."

The image of what might have been a fuel pump, still hiding at the bottom of one of the recycling skips, popped back into his head. _Where were those laboratory assistants now?_ Tailgate nodded fervently.

 

* * *

 

There was something smudged on the glass of what Tailgate was still thinking of as a CR chamber. He hopped a bit, but the smudge remained stubbornly out of reach. He huffed a bit and looked around the empty lab. There wasn't anything that obviously presented itself as a step stool, but Tailgate was pretty sure the equipment trailer could hold his weight. He towed it over and climbed up on shaky legs, the damned thing wobbling underneath him. But at least the smear was closer to him. The smear of...was that fuel? It was nearly the shape of a hand, though it dwarfed his own when he held his hand up to the glass.

On the other side of the glass, something moved in the darkness and Tailgate nearly wobbled off the side of his cart as he jerked his hand away. A hand reached through the bubbles to press up against the other side of the smear of fuel, black and chitinous with elongated claws like daggers. In the purple, Tailgate saw a flash of red, like the glow of eyes.

With a shudder of fear, he climbed down and huddled behind the cart, peering out over the top of it as a huge and shadowy figure floated into view.

It looked like a mech, if you'd assembled a mech purely out of the dark edges of Tailgate's imagination. Purple frame that looked to be growing crystals out of its surface, cracked edges revealing some inky darkness within it. Horns that curled and twisted into shapes unnatural. Red optics that were glaring straight at Tailgate.

Tailgate cowered and the creature watched him. It moved its helm closer to the glass and Tailgate could make out a pointed face with open cheekplates, overgrown with crystals that had crept up over its neck and mouth like a grotesque faceplate. It drifted closer and then jerked to a stop and thrashed its head in frustration—only then did Tailgate catch sight of the metal collar clamped around its throat.

Tailgate abandoned the smear on the glass and the rest of the room and bolted, hiding back in the waste sorting room in the corner behind the disposal skips. _What was that thing, and what was Jhiaxus doing with it?_

 

* * *

 

"I don't know what's gotten into you lately, Legs. You've gone all quiet," Whirl complained.

Tailgate looked over at Whirl and then pointedly looked back away, shaking his head. _Not in the mood_ , he signed over his shoulder.

"Aw, come on. Little guy. Bluebell. My little leggy bot. Oh, come on, don't make me break out the big guns," Whirl said. Tailgate could see him in the window's reflection, theatrically shaking a claw in the air as he paced the length of their apartment. Whirl crossed his arms and, with great and entirely unnecessary drama, said, "Please. Tailgate. You're worrying me."

Tailgate looked over at him and signed, _You can't fix it. I don't want to make you upset._

"Me? Nice, even-keeled, me? Oh, man, you shouldn't have worried. I am a placid ocean, untouched by feelings. Whatever you tell me, you can tell me with the utmost certainty that I will have _no_ emotional reaction to whatever it is." Whirl flopped himself down on the floor by the window seat and propped his head on his arms, staring up at Tailgate expectantly.

Tailgate wavered. _Dreams,_ he signed. _Just a bad dream._

Whirl narrowed his optic to a flat line. "You're sure that's it?"

Tailgate nodded.

Whirl shrugged. "Okay then. I was pretty sure dreams were a fake thing people made up for the vidscreen dramas, but if I guess if you're that bad shook up, they must be real. What are the dreams about?"

Tailgate scrambled for words he didn't quite know how to put into sign. _A thing that's almost a mech but isn't quite a mech. It watches me._

"Sounds like a riddle. What's like a mech, but not a mech?"

 

* * *

 

When Tailgate finally dragged himself to the lab, there was someone already there. Jhiaxus was sitting at the console in the corner, tapping away at a keyboard. Tailgate shuffled backwards, ready to make himself scarce, but Jhiaxus must have heard. He looked up, saw Tailgate and waved him in. "There you are," Jhiaxus said.

Tailgate silently emptied the waste chutes into the skip he'd brought with him, sneaking glances at the CR chamber out of the corner of his eye. He couldn't see the creature, but it had to be there. Watching him from the depths.

"I noticed a bit of something on the glass over there," Jhiaxus said mildly, when he noticed Tailgate retreating towards the exit. "You must have missed it yesterday."

Tailgate froze.

"Go on," Jhiaxus said, with a wave of his hand. "Clean it up."

Hands shaking, Tailgate towed his trailer back over to the CR chamber and climbed on top of it. He sprayed down the handprint and wiped it down, teetering on tiptoe to reach. Something clanged against the glass and Tailgate ducked. Hurriedly, he climbed down and turned to go, only to find himself face to face with a grinning Jhiaxus.

"Don't worry, waste disposal, I've got the beast on a tight leash," he said, then stepped past Tailgate to bang on the glass with his fist. The thing inside jerked back, watching Jhiaxus with a wary eye that Tailgate couldn't help reading as fear. "I might drag the thing out and play with it later this week, but don't you mind. Just clean up around it and keep your vital parts out of range of those claws.”

 

* * *

 

The creature was outside its tank.

Tailgate's first thought, once he'd stopped getting his panic on and noticed that it was still chained down, was that it sat like a person. A terribly formal person. The lead to its collar pulled its head down to the floor, but the creature had tessellated itself to kneel, chest to its knees, back straight as a board. Jhiaxus had gotten cuffs on it somehow, clamping its arms behind its back. It looked like a flier with its wings pinioned and Tailgate was torn between pity and relief that it had been rendered harmless.

He took another step into the room, looking around for Jhiaxus. His station was powered down, no sign of him in the wide room.

At the motion, the creature's optics snapped over to him and it jerked against the chain. A low and rumbling growl filled the room, the creature staring him dead in the optics.

Like a total dork, Tailgate signed _I'm sorry_ before his brains caught up with him. He backed out of the lab and scooted off down the hallway. He'd come back after he worked on sorting for a few hours, and hopefully Jhiaxus would be there to distract the creature from Tailgate.

 

* * *

 

"Wait, Legs, hold up a bit!" Whirl called from the top of the stairs.

Tailgate paused, blinking blearily at Whirl. He really didn't have time to stop and talk, he'd left exactly as many minutes to walk to work as it took him to walk to work.

Whirl jumped down the stairs, a spin of his rotors slowing his descent so he landed feather-light in front of Tailgate. He held up his claw, a small sphere dangling on a thin cord looped over it. "I made you something."

Tailgate reached out to take it, running his fingers admiringly over the twisted wires of the cord. He remembered bringing them home a few weeks ago. And then the sphere at the end...it was a clear glass bulb with something inside it. A bit of blue metal crudely cut to look like one of Whirl's claws.

Whirl latched his claws together, fidgeting a bit. "It's a good luck charm. Since I can't go in person to chase away whatever's spooking you."

 _Thank you,_ Tailgate signed. _I've got to go._

"I know. If anyone gets fresh with you, just remember this," he reached out to poke the glass with his claw with a _tink_. "I'm ready and waiting for permission to smite your enemies, Legs. Just lemme at them."

Tailgate giggled silently, hand drifting up to cover his faceplate out of habit. He waved at Whirl one more time as he left, tucking his gift away in one of his hip compartments.

 

* * *

 

Tailgate looked around the room and, when Jhiaxus showed no signs of suddenly popping up out of the shadows, pulled out Whirl's good luck charm and looped it around his hand. The creature was out of its tank again and watching him, emitting a low and constant growl. The noise was setting his nerves on edge, but he couldn't just keep skipping the bits of the floor near the creature—there was a distinctive set of black muddy stains in the space between the tank and the platform and Jhiaxus would _notice_ if Tailgate didn't actually do his job. He clenched his hand, Whirl's gift a reassuring weight.

He worked his way in as a spiral, putting off the time when he'd have to be within spitting distance of the creature. Not that it could spit—the faceplate of creeping crystals entombed its entire neck and jaw, like a muzzle. It looked painful, like the individual shards were growing out of plating—or maybe into it.

Tailgate circled about, scrubbing at the floor. When he passed behind the creature it flopped over onto its side to watch him, legs tucked up to its chest as it scooted in a shackled circle to follow his motion.

 _It's rude to stare_ , Tailgate signed with a huff as he looped up next to the platform, just out of reach.

The creature startled back as if it mistook Tailgate's sudden motion for a oncoming blow. Tailgate startled in turn and slipped on the wet floor, Whirl's gift flying out of his hand. It sailed through the air to land on the platform, inches from the creature's face.

The creature stared at the little trinket that had landed in front of its nose, optics crossed as it tried to focus on it. It flicked its gaze over to Tailgate and back again. Tailgate realized suddenly that it must have gone quiet some time before, because the questioning humming noise it made startled them both in the silence.

 _Sorry,_ Tailgate signed. _Sorry._ He wobbled a bit, uncertain. He wanted to dart forward and grab it, but he was also pretty sure he was going to faint if he got any closer. But he couldn't just _leave_ it and – Primus, he was going to have to tell Whirl he lost it and how was he going to explain that?

The creature scooted a bit towards Tailgate's treasure, till its nose was a hairsbreadth away. It was quite a nice nose, Tailgate thought. You could almost imagine the rest of its face to match that nose and the high cheekbones, something severe and distinguished. It bumped its nose up against the bauble and then, with a sweep of its head, sent it rolling towards Tailgate. It wobbled along to the edge of the platform and Tailgate reached out to catch it before it rolled over the edge. The creature stared at him, red eyes drilling into his optics with unfathomable intensity.

Tailgate, painfully awkward as always, dipped into a little curtsy before he even knew what he was doing. _Thank you,_ he signed, trying to recover a bit of dignity as he stuffed Whirl's gift away in his hip compartment.

The creature rumbled in what could almost have been laughter, and then gave Tailgate a solemn and dignified nod in response.

His spark seized in his chest as he watched it roll smoothly back onto its knees and reorganize its body back into the pose it'd started in with uncanny grace. The first time he'd seen it, he'd been struck by the cruelty, of pulling such a large creature into a pose so small and abject. But now he was transfixed by its severe and pious posture, like the creature was supplicating itself not towards Jhiaxus but Primus himself, at its own bidding. _How did it drag so much dignity out of so much indignity?_ And, could it somehow teach Tailgate to do the same?

He caught himself giving the creature a wave goodbye as he left that day.

 

* * *

 

A scream echoed down the hallway.

Tailgate flinched and stumbled to his feet where he'd been polishing the floor. He bolted for the nearest doorway and closed the door behind him. Back pressed up against the wires of the tiny electrical closet, he peered out the crack of the doorframe as Jhiaxus came crashing out of his lab.

Fuel splattered on the ground, leaking out between the fingers of his hand, pressed tight to his empty arm socket, exposed wires spitting and sparking. Jhiaxus stumbled onto one knee and lifted his hand away from his shoulder to grab for his comm. He fumbled it, hand slick with fuel, and it clattered to the ground. Tailgate watched with huge optics as Jhiaxus slammed his fist down on the thing in frustration and then shouted into the open comm line. "Nova! Get down here! Get a medic! Your damned beast just tore my arm off. Should have put it down the moment I saw it, fragging fool's errand trying to figure out whatever's beyond that portal."

"Calm down," An imperious voice said tinnily out of the receiver. "Help is on the way. I thought you had it contained?"

"I did! It ripped its thumb off pulling out of the cuffs. Pit-spawned _mechanimal_. I don't care if it's immortal, any soldier that can't be taught respect is _useless._ "

"Well, perhaps that's an error in the subject, not the technique," Nova Prime said. "I will have the power behind that wormhole. You know I hate to be denied, Jhiaxus."

The elevator door at the end of the hallway opened and Tailgate flinched back. There was _Nova Prime_ , Nova Prime himself, striding down the hallway. He was tailed by a cohort of three medics, who encircled the downed scientist and went to work while the Prime crossed his arms and looked on.

"Go on," Jhiaxus spat. "Give it a try. See if you can get anything out of him."

"The difference between _Primes_ and normal mechs is that I do not _try_ ," Nova said. "I simply _do_. But I'll make that creature regret this...unfortunate escapade. Report to me when you are able."

Nova Prime strode into the lab and shut the door behind him with a snap. The medics worked in silence, lifting Jhiaxus onto a portable slab and wheeling him into the elevator. Tailgate sank down into a crouch as he watched the elevator door close behind them, leaving him alone in the fuel-splattered hallway, only two doorways between him and the righteous Prime.

There was silence for a moment, and then Tailgate could hear the Prime saying in a muffled voice, "Jhiaxus _claims_ you can't die. In that case, I guess you'll live to regret this."

There was a _snap-hiss_ sound, then a loud hum like electric static. Tailgate edged the door open and ran, head tucked tight, expecting a scream that never came.

 

* * *

 

"Waste disposal!" An unknown voice crackled through the overhead speakers in the sorting room. Tailgate looked up at them warily—they'd never used the speakers to call him before. Had someone seen him, near the lab? Were they about to call him before Nova Prime? He wrapped his arms around his chest to steady his shaking hands.

"You're ordered to report to Jhiaxus's lab and clean up the mess there. You'll be staying until the lab is clean, put any extra hours on your timecard. Be quick about it!" The speakers cut out with a burst of static.

Tailgate wasn't exactly quick about it. He trudged up to the lab, dragging his trailer of supplies with him, dragging his feet and hoping that an errant bolt of lightning might happen to shock him offline before he got up there. He was indoors, so he acknowledged it was unlikely. But a bot could dream.

No fortuitous lightning strikes appeared before he made it to the lab, but at least there was no sign of Jhiaxus or Nova Prime. He ducked into the darkened lab and queued up the lights.

The fuel splattered across the floor looked garish under the bright lights, the pink of it mixed with near equal quantities of jet black that led all the way up to the platform where...Tailgate hurried to the creature's side. It lay, chest heaving, with its back bowed, legs bent underneath it and arms pinned on either side of its head. Tailgate's optics focused on the rivet gun discarded on the platform and had to vent his faceplate to hurl, tank roiling. He scrubbed at his face, trying to get his systems under control.

 _Primus_ , he thought, _Primus._ Steeling himself, he turned back to the creature to see how he could help. It was obviously in pain, lines cut deep into the plating of its chest in criss-crossing stripes, optics dim, mindlessly tugging at the rivets that pinned down its hands.

He reached down to touch, fingers brushing across the smooth plating of its cheek. The creature shuddered and stilled, optics dimming as it leaned into Tailgate's hand.

They were torturing it. There was really no other conclusion to be drawn. There was no science Tailgate could see in this. And maybe the creature was a monster, some immortal thing—but what right did Jhiaxus have to hurt it so? And how had he come to have possession of it?

Tailgate wetted a cloth and began to clean the whipmarks on its chest. The creature's optics blinked on in surprise and it stared at Tailgate. Stared, but didn't pull away. Not that it'd have far to go. Tailgate did the best he could and then stepped away, looking between the creature and the wreck of the room. _I'm sorry. I don't know how to help you and I have to go._

Tailgate went to step down from the platform, but stopped when something grabbed his ankle. He looked over at the creature, which released him and then formed an awkward sign with its hand. Pinned to the ground as it was, it couldn't mimic the signs Tailgate formed exactly. It took a few repetitions for Tailgate to recognize the sign it was trying to form. _Thank you._

Tailgate's breath caught in his intake. It understood him. Or else it had figured out the sign from context. Either way, it—no, was that the right word? What had him so convinced the creature wasn't a mech? What was the dividing line between a monster and a mech poisoned by something that made them monstrous? If it was intelligence, Tailgate had no reason to suspect the creature _was_ on the other side of that divide. He understood him.

 _Don't thank me—I've done nothing for you,_ he signed, wiping tears away with the back of his arm. _I'm useless._

The creature shook his head and signed again, slowly and with deliberation. _Thank you._

 

* * *

 

 _I have to do something._ But there was nothing he could do. The creature was government property. The _Prime_ was involved. There was nobody to petition. But Tailgate had to do something.

So he gave the creature the only thing he had to offer—a friend.

He rushed through his tasks, circling up to the lab and checking for safe opportunities to sneak inside. Times when the Prime and Jhiaxus weren't there. In the process he caught the edges of a lot of rants that began filling in pieces of a puzzle he hadn't known existed. Jhiaxus was convinced that the creature (if he had a name, they either didn't know it or they didn't care—the creature was always just 'you' to Jhiaxus) was immortal. As best Tailgate could tell, he'd determined this by doing his level best to kill him. Prime was tantalized by the opportunity to create an honor-guard of immortal soldiers. But the process that had created the creature hadn't worked on their unfortunate test subjects. They came out mutated and unkillable...only to waste away and die a few hours later.

They were trying to figure out what it was that made the creature able to continue existing when the other subjects wasted away. It wasn't working. They were growing increasingly frantic as their failures compounded themselves, working themselves into a paranoia that seemed to revolve around some companion of the creature, the one they called 'your master'.

"I saw his signature on the monitors again," Jhiaxus said. "He won't get through, though. We disassembled the spacebridge after the first time. There's no way he can get through to us—he'll be trapped in that hellscape."

The creature was silent. Tailgate imagined a suitably condescending stare on his face.

"Nova tells me that your master has locked onto your spark signature somehow, that he must be coming to drag you away from us. I tell him, first of all, that's impossible. Both scientifically, practically and—well, we both know what you were worth to him. And maybe that black hole addled his brains as well as yours, but even then, there'd be no way to break through into this reality."

Jhiaxus denied believing the Prime's paranoia, but he took to traveling with a guard of his own, a pair of broad-shouldered bodyguards with fists the size of fifty normal bot's fists.

There was a bigger problem with their scientific venture than whatever monsters were lurking in their imaginations, but Tailgate doubted either of them had noticed. He hadn't noticed either, not right away.

He'd snuck into the lab, been halfway through a story. His best story, the one about getting lost in the caves under the Mitteous Plateau once while on special assignment. His one and only special assignment, his proudest moment turned failure—when he'd been assigned to work on the Ark 1 before the launch. He'd fallen through into the caves below and been stuck there until Whirl showed up to rescue him. Tailgate wasn't entirely sure how much of his story the creature was following but he was keeping eye contact with Tailgate and he'd occasionally nod encouragingly. So he was pretty sure that even if he couldn't understand, the creature was enjoying watching him tell the story.

Or, he had been. All of a sudden, the creature started coughing, convulsions rattling his frame. With a frantic desperation, he began to thrash his face against the platform, crystals chipping and flying. Tailgate ducked and covered his head as the creature succeeded in sloughing off its crystal faceplate only to open its mouth and disgorge a pile of jagged crystals and a puddle of black bile onto the platform. He shuddered and did it again before flopping over onto his side, mouth open and panting.

Tailgate scooted to his side, wincing in horror when he noticed that the crystals that made up the creature's faceplate apparently continued _inside_ , occluding the majority of the inside of his mouth. The rest of the space seemed to be filled with seeping black fluid that Tailgate was pretty sure was infected energon. He rubbed the creature's back in futile soothing circles as the crystals grew back out over his face in a series of crackling jagged splinters.

When he'd recovered his composure, he signed a quick _thank you_ at Tailgate before wilting back to the ground.

Tailgate hesitated. _They say you're immortal. That you're not dying like the others. Are they right?_

The creature shuttered his optics and shook his head. Slowly, he forced his cramped fingers into a new sign, one Tailgate had used but not seen him repeat before. _Slower._

 

* * *

 

"Slow down! Legs, you're going to have to start back over at the beginning. When did you get a boyfriend?"

Tailgate threw his hands up in the air and walked away, then turned on his heel and dove back for his speech synthesizer. He furiously tapped at the little keyboard. "Not a boyfriend. Friend. He's a research subject Jhiaxus kidnapped somehow. I clean up the lab where they keep him. Whirl, he's dying!" The fragging synthesized voice read that line with no inflection, all of Tailgate's anguish stripped out into monotone.

"Okay, I think I follow. And you want to kidnap him back...because then he won't be dying?"

"I don't know." Tailgate got up and paced frantically, then scooted back to his seat to type more. "I don't know if anyone knows how to fix him. He's being eaten from the inside out and even Jhiaxus doesn't understand how it works. I don't know if anyone can save him. But I can't let him die there. Whirl. They're hurting him."

Whirl stiffened. "I can imagine." He opened up his arms for Tailgate and enfolded him in an awkward gangly-limbed hug. "Tailgate, anything we do...would this guy want you to endanger yourself for his sake? Because you and me, we're pretty unstoppable. But just the two of us against the Prime and his chief scientist is pretty long odds. Now, I don't have much to live for. But you're you! You're personable and you've got a spark six sizes too large and you could have so many friends if you weren't dragging this old whirlybird ball-and-chain around. Is he worth it?"

Pressed up against Whirl's cockpit, Tailgate emphatically signed _don't you dare._ He pulled away, glaring at Whirl. _I helped you. You helped me. And I'm going to help him, with you or without you._

"Okay," Whirl said, putting his claws on Tailgate's shoulders and looking solemnly down at him. "So how are we going to do it?"

 

* * *

 

Tailgate nodded at the door guard as he passed back inside the compound, steering his grav-skip in ahead of him. Once a month or so he had to take the full skips of trash out to the back loading docks to empty them into the trash compactors there. They'd only had to delay the plan a few days in order to time it the night of this particular chore.

Spark in his throat, Tailgate pushed the skip back to the elevator and cued the command for the bottom basement floor. He didn't relax until the elevator doors sealed shut behind him. Okay, that was a lie. He wasn't going to relax ever, for the rest of his life. But he didn't give Whirl the 'all-clear' knock on the side of the skip until they made it back to the waste sorting room.

"Tailgate, I'm willing to do a lot for love," Whirl announced, standing up and dramatically throwing off the tarp that had camouflaged him, "but this plan stinks. Not saying I don't think it'll work. I do. I just hadn't realized how much your job smells. My condolences."

Tailgate waved him off, hopping up onto the side of the skip to look over their assembled supplies. Bolt cutters, plasma cutter, one small fuel pack and battery that Whirl was fifty-percent of the way done rigging into a small explosive. He hopped off and headed over to their next sorted skip, specially selected for this mission. Soft textile scraps, perfect for keeping Whirl and the creature safely hidden.

Whirl and the supplies were safely loaded up and they exchanged a fist-bump for good luck. Then they headed up to the North wing. First stop—the space bridge.

They had two chief advantages going into this plan. Two reasons why they might be able to pull it off after all. Number one was the fact that nobody had ever bothered respecting Tailgate, much less considered him a proper threat. Number two was Jhiaxus's paranoia about having his discoveries lifted out from under him. He didn't keep any guards posted on the laboratories and he didn't retain any lab techs for this project. And nothing was locked down here—there was no point in locking a door when you needed the same security clearance to get into the hallway as you needed to get through the doorway.

They stepped into the lab that Tailgate had known existed but never entered—the room where Jhiaxus had killed all those nice guards Tailgate had given directions to. There was an enormous gateway of twisted metal in the center of the room, hooked up to a multitude of red-screened monitors. Tailgate got out their plasma cutter and began carving artful clawmarks in the floor, like some great beast scrabbling along the floor with twisted claws. Whirl rigged up their explosive as best he could, then called Tailgate over to connect the last few wires with his little nimble fingers. They set the timer for twenty minutes and loaded back up.

Tailgate peeked out into the hallway and looked both ways, then wheeled them into the lab down the hall where Jhiaxus kept the creature. He was kneeling on the platform again, but at least he wasn't secured at all points. They'd only need to cut the chain.

When Tailgate arrived, the creature sat up and stared at him in confusion. _Why_ , he signed, baffled why Tailgate was there when he was supposed to be doing some other part of his job.

 _We're rescuing you_ , Tailgate signed back, giving the side of the skip a thump in order to cue Whirl to hop out.

Whirl only recoiled for a moment at the sight of him. Tailgate had done his best to warn him about the creature, but he was a lot to take in. Whirl recovered quickly enough, bowing deeply with a theatrical sweep of his arm. "Tailgate's prince! Good sir, it is an _honor_ to make your acquaintance. Tailgate tells me that we don't know your given name, but that's no problem at all, I have never once in my life called anyone by their given name. Given that you're tall, dark and mysterious, I think I'm going to go with 'Handsome'. I mean, not that you're as good looking as I am. Not bad, just not quite as _distinguished_ as the especially fine specimen which is myself-"

As Whirl continued to ramble, Tailgate quickly signed over to the bewildered creature _Ignore him. Ever since he lost his mouth he's talked twice as much to make up for it._ He picked up the laser cutter and strode over to the creature, turning it on and making quick work of the fastening point between the chain and the floor and then the chain between his cuffs.

The creature stared at him and signed again, bewildered. _Why?_

 _You're coming home with us,_ Tailgate signed. _Don't worry. I'll take care of everything._

_Why?_

"Because he likes you, Handsome." Whirl said.

Tailgate covered his face with his hands, cursing his tendency to flush at the slightest provocation.

Whirl offered the creature a hand up. "Come on, Handsome, we've got a limited time window to make our escape. Do you need me to carry you or just give you a boost on the way to your carriage while poor Tailgate reboots his brain?"

Tailgate uncovered his face to throw something at Whirl, but met with the sight of the creature gathered up in Whirl's spindly arms, bridal style. It shouldn't have worked, but while the creature was bulky, Whirl was gawky but huge. The creature looped his arms around Whirl's neck to stabilize them as they staggered over to the skip. "Come on, Tailgate! Move your little legs!" Whirl said.

Breaking out of his spell, Tailgate scurried over and hopped up onto the side of the skip, shuffling fabric out of the way so Whirl could lower the creature inside. Whirl hopped in the other side of the skip and said, sing-song, "Onwards! Towards glory! Or at least not getting caught and then executed!"

Tailgate made sure the two of them were safely out of sight and then pushed the skip back out into the hallway. Still no sign of trouble.

Tailgate pushed them back out to the elevator and rode up in silence, hands clenched at his side. What if the crea—what if Handsome started coughing as they made their escape? What if he was claustrophobic? What if the guard, for the first time ever, insisted on searching the skip to make sure Tailgate wasn't smuggling out contraband? How could he explain Whirl and Cyclonus? Oh Primus, they'd have to kill the door guard. Or subvert him to their cause...Whirl was a fast talker, Tailgate was was pretty sure neither of them were capable of killing anybody, seducing him to the cause was probably a better plan.

They made it past the door guard without any trouble.

Tailgate led the skip down by the trash compactors and tapped to signal the bots inside. Whirl poked his head up out of the fabric and shook his head to free it from the rag hooked over his antennae. He hopped out and wiggled a bit, working out all the kinks before he transformed into helicopter mode. Tailgate unearthed Handsome, who was lying in the pile of fabric scraps, seemingly half of it stuck to his spiked horns. Tailgate tried to pull it off, but it was a lost cause; it was going to take them forever to get all of the scraps off of him. _Sorry,_ Tailgate signed. _Whirl's going to take you home. I'll follow later._

 _Alone,_ Handsome signed, reaching out for Tailgate's hand. _Not safe._

_I'll be fine. If I went with you, they'd know I was involved. I'll be safe._

Handsome pushed his helm up against Tailgate's, leaning into him with a huff of frustration. He held the pose for a moment, then pulled away with fear in his eyes. _Alone. Safe. Follow later._

 _I promise,_ Tailgate signed. _I'll follow soon. Go with Whirl._

Handsome obviously wasn't going to fit inside Whirl's cockpit, but he looked so precarious hanging onto the outside that Tailgate tried to offer to tie him on, an offer that Handsome disdainfully shook away. "See ya soon, Legs," Whirl said. "Don't worry, if I drop him I promise I'll swoop him back out of the sky."

Tailgate waved them off, spark back in his throat. Now he had to make it back inside and survive the raising of the alarm.

 

* * *

  

_Is he safe? Is he here?_ Tailgate signed frantically, looking around their empty apartment.

Whirl, standing at the center of the maelstrom of destruction that was their room, crossed his arms petulantly at Tailgate. "I don't think Handsome likes me very much," he said. His little shelves of trinkets had been bowled over, the individual pieces strewn over the floor. Whirl kicked at one of them, knocking it back towards his corner by the window.

 _Explain!_ Tailgate signed, stomping his foot. _No jokes!_

"Chill, Leggy. He's okay. He's back in the washracks," Whirl said, jerking his claw towards the washrack door. "We got here, I tried to talk to him a bit and he got a bit of a panic. No clue what set him off, so I can only assume he has taken offense to my sparkling personality."

Tailgate looked around the room again. All of Whirl's little projects, strewn about the room. _Sorry._

"Aw, no hard feelings," Whirl said, patting Tailgate on the head. "It doesn't matter about the art, don't stress yourself. I'm pretty sure we're going to get caught and then we're all gonna get dead, so I'm not worrying too much about the long term." He nodded sagely. "Wanna go get your boy?"

They knocked at the door and listened. "Hey, Handsome!" Whirl said. "Tailgate's back. And he's very sad that you closed the door on him and he can't talk."

Tailgate looked back towards his windowseat. He could run and grab his speech synthesizer, but Handsome wouldn't know that was him speaking anyway. He knocked on the door and tried the latch. It wasn't locked.

"Handsome, you could open the door up anytime, but I think Tailgate's going to try to force it in a minute if you don't open it on your own."

The door was stuck. Tailgate tugged at it, then looked over at Whirl for assistance. Whirl took the handle in hand and jerked it open. Handsome slumped out of the doorway, landing on the floor with a klunk. Tailgate panicked for a half second, certain that Handsome had died. _Primus, they'd risked everything and he'd died in Tailgate's washracks._ But when he kneeled to touch his hand, his optics flickered on for a moment and his plating was warm. He scooted his knees under the creature's head and signed over his shoulder, _I think he's asleep._

Whirl considered that for a moment. "Huh," he said. "You're right. There _is_ something wrong with that dude." He walked away muttering. "Asleep! Primus, I don't think I'm going to sleep ever again. Stealing Tailgate a boyfriend out from under the Prime's nose..."

 

* * *

 

Tailgate hadn't realized Jhiaxus had an office. Of course, once he realized it was true it became apparent how obvious it was. Intellectuals has offices. Jhiaxus needed to feel like an intellectual. The Prime was willing to give him whatever he needed as long as he kept serving at his side.

The office was intimidating in an ominous, if staid, predictable way. Tall desk, dimmed lighting, floor-to-ceiling glass cases of shadowy things rippling just out of sight. Tailgate took all that as confirmation that he'd not be giving anything away by hunching over and letting a little bit of his panic seep through.

"Waste disposal. Yesterday there was a disturbance. You must have noticed."

Tailgate nodded hesitantly. It'd taken them a few hours to raise the alarm, but after that the basement complex had been swarming with guards. They'd run him through a ridiculously thorough security checkpoint on his way out, as if Tailgate or anyone else in the building might have smuggled Handsome out in their inner compartments.

Jhiaxus banged his fist on the table. "I have been robbed! And I _will_ figure out who is behind it. So I have to know—did you see anything yesterday, anything at all outside your normal routine?"

Tailgate shook his head, fists clutching his knees.

Jhiaxus slumped. "I guess that's just as well. I don't see how I'm supposed to question my employees when they can't even speak. Dismissed!"

 

* * *

 

"Tailgate, wait," Whirl said, pulling him aside. "Before you go in there, we need to talk." Handsome was still in the washracks—he'd had two coughing spells in the night before Tailgate left for work.

Tailgate's thoughts flashed to all the awful possibilities. He was dead. Someone had stolen him from them. Whirl had gotten cold feet and wanted to turn him back in to the government before they got caught. _What?_ he signed.

"I've been joking around," Whirl said, crouching down to get his face level with Tailgate's. "You know me. I see a feeling coming on down the road, I bank left and cover my retreat with a good joke. But we need to talk about this for real. Are you in love with Handsome?"

 _I_...Tailgate hesitated. Was he? _I don't know. What is love? Whirl, he's dying. He can barely talk to me. We're never going to be conjunxes._

"I know," Whirl said. "But none of that changes how you _feel._ "

_I don't know how I feel. He means so much more to me than I can explain. It's not pity, it's...when I say something clever and he nods I feel my whole spark light up. When he reaches out to me for comfort I feel so big and important. I wish I had a million years to sit with him, even if we had to sit in silence._

"Oh, Legs," Whirl said, "That's what love is. Primus, that's the way I feel about you sometimes. I could never have described it like that, Primus, when did you get so much brains in your little noggin? You can't be the smart one _and_ the brave one, Legsy. It's not fair."

 _You too,_ Tailgate said. _I don't care about you less._

"I'm not jealous," Whirl insisted. "I'm not. I'm not so good at feelings, I just know I'm with you as long as you want me here. So don't worry about that. But if you love Handsome, you have to tell him, Tailgate. Don't you let him die not knowing."

_But what if he doesn't feel anything back?_

"You weren't the one hanging out with him all day," Whirl said with a dismissive narrowing of his optic. "Trust me, okay?"

Handsome was curled up in the corner, using the wall to prop him up, Tailgate's favorite (only) warming tarp laid over his legs to keep him warm. His face lit up when he saw them, in the subtle way to which he was inclined and which Tailgate had worked to become fluent in. Handsome reached out a clawed hand for Tailgate, arm shaking a bit with effort. Tailgate took it and moved to sit close by him.

"Now, Handsome here has been trying to ask me the same damned question all day," Whirl said, sitting down in the doorway. "Maybe you should try asking Tailgate your question."

Handsome flicked an irritated look over at Whirl, but looked back at Tailgate with worry. He clasped his hands and clicked them together, rattling his claws against each other. He looked up at Whirl with hooded eyes and held his gaze.

"Come on, don't be shy," Whirl said. He nodded encouragingly at Handsome.

He struggled for a moment, then signed. _Why?_

 _Why did we rescue you?_ Tailgate clarified.

He nodded, then signed it again. _Why? Dead soon. Why danger?_

Tailgate tipped his head against his chest, shaking his head. _Don't talk like that. You're worth it._

He put his hands on Tailgate's shoulders and pushed him upright. Then he signed, again. _Why?_

Tailgate looked over at Whirl, who nodded back at him, twirling a claw to urge him onwards.

_You're important to me. You're dear to me. I couldn't leave you. I couldn't leave you because I love you._

He shook his head at Tailgate, pushing him away. _No. Not worth it. Not worth risk._

Tailgate swiped at his visor to brush away tears bubbling up to try and cool his overheating optics. _Worth it. Worth it._

"Buddy, you can't talk him out of loving you," Whirl said softly. "And we've already gone and done it, so you can't talk him out of rescuing you neither. You're just going to have to live with it."

Handsome glared at Whirl and jerked his head as if to urge him inside.

"Oh no, I'll leave you two cuddlebugs in here to work out your feelings. Whirl doesn't need any feelings time."

 _Stay,_ Handsome signed, then pointed to the space on the other side of Tailgate.

With a long-suffering and obviously fake sigh, Whirl scooted into the tiny room and folded himself into the space beside Tailgate. "So, Tailgate, you _were_ joking when you said you'd be okay with just sitting in silence together forever, right? We're not actually just going to sit here in silence, right? You know I get all twitchy when I'm not talking."

 

* * *

 

 

"It's okay, it's okay. Relax, Handsome. Just let it out." Whirl thumped him on the back as he hacked black ooze onto the tiled floor. He'd startled awake clawing at the crystals covering his face, which was about as much warning as they were getting between attacks at this point. Tailgate backed up to give them space and held the blanket up off the floor—Handsome had been quite distressed earlier about the possibility of dirtying it.

With a moan of pain, Handsome's face split around his cheek vents, jaw unhinging as he coughed up a huge and jagged piece of black crystal. Ichor seeped from behind serrated teeth and Handsome made a godawful whining sound.

"Okay, gross, but you're doing great. Is that all of it?" Whirl asked. "Do you want to lie down again?"

Handsome hesitated, then nodded. Whirl scooped him up into his arms and Tailgate grabbed the hose, sluicing the worst of the muck down the drain and kicking the crystal fragments off to the side. A quick blast from the vents at the baseboards flash-dried the floor and they got Handsome wrapped up in the blanket again.

He looked at Tailgate and, with a terrifyingly matter-of-fact look on his face, signed, _Soon._

"Where does it hurt, Handsome?" Whirl asked.

He rolled his head over to glare at Whirl and waved his hand about in a vague and all-encompassing gesture. Then he rapped lightly on the center of his chest, where his spark was. Ought to be. Tailgate wasn't totally sure if he _had_ a spark.

Whirl looked between them, drumming his claws against his knees. "This is going to sound like a very bad idea..." he said, "but I don't know if we could make things worse at this point. What if we went in there?"

 _Went in where?_ Tailgate signed.

"You know, what if we cracked your chest open like a coconut and took a looksee what's happening in there? I used to install internal chronometers, I know my way around the body. And Tailgate has very nimble fingers. Between the two of us, maybe we could find something to fix and fix it."

 _Whirl!_ Tailgate glared at him. _We're not cutting him open._

Handsome drew his fingers over his chest and looked up at them. _Try._ He patted Whirl on the back of his claw. _Trust you._

"Are you sure?" Whirl asked. "We don't know if there's going to be anything we can fix in there. We might just hurt you more for no reason."

Handsome hesitated, searching for the right words. He'd been picking up Tailgate's chiro-variant with rapid speed, but his limited mobility in his hands held him back. They'd tried to offer him Tailgate's speech synthesizer, but the little keyboard keys were too small for him to manipulate. Eventually he tapped on his chest again and signed _Need know still whole._

"Oh, buddy," Whirl said. "Are you religious?"

Handsome nodded. He'd refused to answer any questions about his former life, claimed it'd only risk them more if they knew. But from what he'd let slip they were certain Handsome was some poor mech Jhiaxus had mutated.

 _It doesn't matter what's inside you. You're still good._ Tailgate signed with an angry flourish.

 _Need know._ Handsome signed.

Against Tailgate's strenuous objections, they soldiered on with their plan. Strenuous was probably a bit far. He didn't really have the spark to fight Handsome on it; he'd been losing strength for days. They all knew he didn't have long left.

Whirl unearthed his stash from his days in the chrono shop. Laser scalpels, precision tweezers, little mirrors with handles, sterilizing fluid. There were a few neural blockers in the box, but they were all expired. And they weren't sure Handsome would be able to process them anyway. Whirl positioned himself behind Tailgate to guide him through the process.

Laser scalpel in his hand, Tailgate froze inches from Handsome's crystallized plating.

"You can do it, Tailgate," Whirl said. "Shallow cut at first. He probably doesn't even have a functioning neural net there cause of the plating degradation. Don't freeze up."

Handsome reached up to cup Tailgate's face in his hand. He nodded encouragingly. Tailgate couldn't let him down.

Steeling himself, he made a shallow cut vertically over where they were guessing Handsome's spark chamber was. Very shallow. So shallow there was barely a mark. He didn't wait for Whirl to tell him it wasn't good enough, just traced over the line again. Crystals on the surface fractured outwards from the point in delicate tracework.

"Good! Okay, just a little bit deeper, then we'll try to clamp it open," Whirl said.

Tailgate looked to Handsome for encouragement. He stroked his hand over Tailgate's cheek and nodded again. Tailgate raised the scalpel to the incision point and cut deep.

The claws against his cheek spasmed and a hot rush of pain stabbed Tailgate in the face. Black fluid and roiling smoke rushed out of the incision and Tailgate dropped the scalpel to press his hands over the opening.

"Primus!" Whirl jumped back. "What the frag was that!"

Tailgate could already feel the liquid under his hands cooling and hardening into a new layer of jagged crystaline points. He locked eyes with Handsome, who was staring at Tailgate, stricken with guilt.

Tailgate abruptly noticed the sensation of something dripping down the side of his face. He turned his face to the mirror on the wall to see three deep furrows through his plating, weeping energon.

Handsome lurched forward to fold his arms around Tailgate.

"Oh Primus," Whirl repeated. "This was such a bad plan. Bad plan! Bad plan, Whirl! How the Pit do you always manage to make it worse?"

Whirl lurched over to Tailgate's side and poked at his face. "I can patch this up, but there's no way I can patch it perfect. It's going to be pretty obvious you got clawed in the face. How long do you have until you're supposed to be at work?"

Tailgate's spark froze. Handsome released him and fell back, frantically signing at Tailgate, _sorry_ and _fault_ on loop. Tailgate let his hands fall to his lap. Three hours. He had three hours until he was supposed to be at work. Three hours until he could either not show up or not. Either his appearance or his disappearance were going to give them away.

"Okay, we're going to need to go away for a bit," Whirl said, slapping a patch over the clawmarks. “Just go to ground for a bit. Get away from the public eye. Maybe the undergrid? I've heard of mechs hiding there. Oh, shut it, Handsome. We know it was an accident, the plan was my idea, everyone's at fault here."

 _They're not going to just forget!_ Tailgate signed.

"They will eventually!" Whirl said.

_No they won't! It's the Prime! Oh, Primus, it's the Prime. We robbed the Prime. He has my spark signature on record, Whirl, and I know they've got yours too. No matter where we go they'll be able to track us._

“Not if we're in powersave mode. If you lower your power usage to the bare minimum it ramps down the spark output and you can slip the sensors. We go to sleep and wait them out.”

_Wait them out? They will never stop looking!_

“They'll give up eventually, find some new and shiny mechs to torture. Or they'll kick it! We go into powersave mode somewhere safe, set our chronos to wake us up in a hundred years. Hopefully the Prime will have been assassinated by then and then there'll be nobody to look for us. We just need to figure out where to go. The undergrid's not going to cut it if we have to wait them out long term."

There was a clapping sound. Two heads swiveled to stare at Handsome, who tried to sign again. _Mitteous Plateau._

"Oh!" Whirl said.

 _From my story?_ Tailgate signed.

"He might have heard of the most labyrinthine system of natural caves on Cybertron _before_ he met you, ya know," Whirl said. "Under the Mitteous plateau. Oh, Handsome, you are clever. I like it. Yeah, this is good. All of us scoot over there, hide out in the caves. Wait 'em out."

 _You can't carry both of us._ Tailgate pushed himself to his feet. _Take him first. They won't know I'm missing for another three hours, that's plenty of time to get there and back._

Handsome didn't look happy with that plan, but Tailgate put his foot down. _You go first. It went fine last time. It'll go fine this time._

 

* * *

 

 

The outside door slammed and Tailgate leaped to his feet. Whirl was back! Tailgate looked around the apartment one last time, just to make sure he had everything packed up. He didn't have a lot of stuff, but he'd packed up the solid ration packs and a few of Whirl's art pieces. Then he zipped over to grab the door for Whirl.

The door slammed on top of him, thrown clear off its hinges. Tailgate's head cracked against the floor and everything went wobbly for a moment, a piercing whine starting up in his audials. He rolled on his side to get out from under the door, light of the apartment suddenly too-bright. Two shadows loomed across his vision.

"Hello, Waste Disposal," Jhiaxus crowed.

_But they didn't...his shift hadn't started yet. What..._

"-and that guard mentioned that you'd been moving garbage to the outside loading docks that very day. I couldn't believe we'd missed it."

"Jhiaxus." Nova Prime pushed the scientist aside. "The creature. Find it."

 

"Where is the creature!" The Prime slammed Tailgate's head against the floor again. The world shivered. This was worse than being drunk. That damned whining sound was bouncing back and forth between his audials like a siren. He wanted to heave. _Where's Whirl? Whirl shouldn't come back. 's not safe._

 

"I found these in the washracks," Jhiaxus said. An armful of black crystals dumped on the floor, rebounding with an awful clatter that hit him like a wall of sound. Tailgate tried to curl up against the sound, but the Prime had his boot on his chest and there was nowhere to go.

 

"Stop it crying! Useless! Utterly useless!"

"Bot, stop it. These histrionics are doing you no favor. Pay attention and answer the Prime's questions."

Tailgate blubbered. It hurt. Everything hurt. A moment ago he'd realized he needed to catch Whirl's attention, so he'd know not to come. Something that'd be visible from the air. The window was so far away and his legs—Primus, it hurt. But if he was useless enough they'd grow tired of him eventually. Or they'd fetch something to get information out of him.

The windowpanes shimmered and duplicated in his view, dancing in front of him like the gateway into the afterspark. They sang.

 

Glass shattered. Ground so far away. Then not so very far away. Then not far away at all.

Then there was finally some fucking silence.

 

* * *

  

The world came back wrong. It was broken into a series of angular frames that blurred and repeated each other, figures wobbling in and out of existence. Everything was loud, far too loud, but only in one audial. The rest of Tailgate's body seemed to have checked out entirely.

But most importantly, Whirl was there. Whirl was there and being held at gunpoint by Nova Prime, his claws hovering helplessly over Tailgate's face.

"You will take us to the creature, filth. Or I will take great pleasure in taking your little minibot apart in front of you. You can't disguise the way you look at him, freak," Nova hissed, "does it please you, having a lover who can't complain about your deformity?"

"Don't," Whirl choked. "Don't hurt him."

"Too late for that," Nova said. "Already got quite a lot of fun out your little playmate. But he couldn't tell us where you took the creature. You can."

Tailgate wanted, desperately, to shake his head at Whirl. It wouldn't have made a difference anyway. Jhiaxus shoved his shock stick into Tailgate's exposed hip socket and thus Whirl's squishy interior and as Tailgate fell back out of comprehension he knew Whirl was going to fold.

 

* * *

  

"And I thought your rescuer was the mighty Lord Galvatron," Nova Prime pontificated, his irritating voice dragging Tailgate from his peaceful unconsciousness. "Instead, I find that you've been consorting with the janitorial staff. Goodness, Cyclonus. I always thought you were a mech of low standards. I never knew you were shameless."

Cyclonus. Where had...Cyclonus. The warrior, second to Galvatron, crewmember of the Ark. Handsome was Cyclonus, _how had Tailgate not realized that until just now?_

All he could see was Nova's back, Jhiaxus's arms squeezing him like Tailgate still had the strength to run away. Cyclonus must have been somewhere beyond Nova, and where was Whirl? He couldn't turn his head to find him.

"But now that I see how you've...degraded since we last spoke, I should probably take the time to thank you," Nova said. "You were right. If we'd all gone through that portal we would all have been cursed like you. I'm glad you and Galvatron insisted on going in as our vanguard. And you left him behind there. Just like you left your little friend."

Jhiaxus stepped out from behind the Prime and dumped Tailgate to the floor. He landed in an undignified heap, but he could still see out of his fractured visor. Whirl, on his side, his beautiful legs torn off. Cyclonus, on his knees, barely holding himself up as black steam rose out of the uncountable cracks in his crystallized plating.

His optics, dull and wavering, roamed over Tailgate's frame in seeming incomprehension. Then they flashed to crimson and he made the most awful keening sound Tailgate had ever heard.

"He died in pain, as will you all," Nova Prime said. "As the Prime wills it."

The sound Cyclonus was making grew louder and more awful and his head tipped back to the ceiling. He seemed to become lighter, the posture of his frame loosening like some great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

"What is he doing?" Jhiaxus asked.

Cyclonus's cry became a roar and he lifted up off the ground, floating in place. A white glow was building up around him, centered on his spark and blinding in its intensity.

"I was going to ask you that!" Nova Prime shouted.

And then, of a sudden, the roar became nothingness and the light became everything. It blasted out away from Cyclonus, knocking them all back and leaving an afterimage of so many jeweled colors across Tailgate's optics.

Cyclonus remained suspended in the air a moment longer and then a great shadow rushed out of him, crystal shattering and raining down to the ground in a maelstrom of sound. Cyclonus slumped to the ground, insensate, leaving the shadow in his wake.

The black cloud writhed and coalesced into something, shrinking to a smaller and smaller point of darkness. Then it ripped open a hole to the world beyond and, with a roar of pressure, grabbed at Nova and Jhiaxus and pulled them through. Their mouths were open, but Tailgate couldn't hear a scream as the portal collapsed after them.

With a pop, it vanished from the tunnel and they were left alone.

He could see Cyclonus from where he lay, restored somehow to his former glory. His plating gleamed, a vibrant purple, but his optics were dark. Whirl, at his side, appeared to have fallen unconscious.

It took a long time to crawl to the space between them. It would have been easier if he had legs. And if he wouldn't have kept passing out. But eventually he curled himself into the space between their bodies and, lulled by the soft hum of engines idling on either side of him, let himself drift off into unconsciousness.

Not such an awful fate, to be forgotten side by side.

 

* * *

 

Someone was shaking him by the shoulder. "Tailgate, please." The voice was not one he'd heard before, but it was rumbly and deep and Tailgate wanted to snuggle up inside of it to keep warm.

His optics flickered on. His HUD sent up dire, dire threats about low fuel levels. Cyclonus was holding him in his arms. Tailgate nearly passed out again on the spot.

"We're going to get you assistance," Cyclonus assured him, rising gracefully to his feet. "Whirl's figured how to detonate the energon rations you'd packed. We don't...we were asleep some time. We're not sure how long."

Tailgate nuzzled into his chest. It was okay. He felt fine. Cyclonus was right there. And he was talking! And walking! And Whirl was apparently alive—Tailgate couldn't have asked for more.

Whirl lurched into view, using his claws as if they were crutches to propel his legless body over to them. "Gonna go boom in a moment! Don't get too close!"

The blast lit skyward and knocked Whirl on top of them, bodies tangling into a pile. After an awkward moment, Whirl cracked up laughing. "Sheesh! Did _not_ estimate that blast radius right."

"Whirl! Be serious, we need to get Tailgate to help," Cyclonus admonished, staggering back to his feet. There was light wafting down through the space Whirl's explosion had carved, illuminating the little bits of dust floating in its aftermath. Cyclonus hoisted Tailgate onto one hip, then wrapped his other arm around Whirl to pull him upright, one arm looped round Cyclonus's neck. He strode into the light and peered upwards.

Three unfamiliar faces stared back down at them. Whirl waved his free claw at them and then asked cheerily, "Any chance of a hand?"

**Author's Note:**

> Points of timeline divergence:  
> \- When the Ark encounters the anomaly, Cyclonus and Galvatron advocate strongly that they be sent in as a vanguard to assess the danger. They go in...and disappear forever. Nova, Jhiaxus and the crew turn around and go back to Cybertron to try and figure out what that thing was. When Jhiaxus eventually succeeds in opening a spacebridge to the Dead Universe, Cyclonus uses it to escape thinking he'll be welcomed back as a hero. Instead exposure to the normal universe warps and twists him into something monstrous and he's captured. Cue the story as seen.  
> \- Whirl is as old as Tailgate and Cyclonus, but otherwise acts out his early history - has a shop, loses shop, empurata. We catch him before he could be forced to work for the senate because he's got a roommate to help keep him going.  
> \- Tailgate is assigned to work at the Primal Bascilica and becomes roommates with Whirl. This leads to his rescue when he falls through the Mitteous Plateau, leaving him awake and topside to act out the events of the story.  
> \- Why can't Tailgate talk? It's a mystery! Choose your own backstory.
> 
>  
> 
> ...all of that aside, thank's for clicking into and reading this goofy idea I had! I really love cyclonus and tailgate and whirl and I love the idea of them in a mutually supportive & romantic relationship.  
> I love comments so...you know, feel free to tell me anything. You can also find me on tumblr at [ notwhelmedyet](http://notwhelmedyet.tumblr.com/), talking 'bout robots & being behind on lost light.


End file.
